Erybet was still stroking his hair, and Conyod leaned his cheek into the other man’s palm.
“Thank you for trusting me with this, Erybet. I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass pressuring you to disobey orders.”
The Dramok found a smile. “You haven’t been an ass. You’ve been a concerned Imdiko trying to help his clan. I only would have found fault if you’d been less insistent.”
He stood and came around the table to stand next to Conyod, who also rose to his feet. They stared at each other, and Conyod finally felt the emotional distance closed. He had his Dramok back. Not the same Dramok he’d had before the war, but one he knew despite the changes. It was a relief.
Erybet said in a soft voice, “I can’t begin to tell you how much better I feel now that you know. It’s been so hard to keep it from you.”
His arms wrapped around Conyod. The Imdiko returned the embrace. A portion of the weight had left him, but the greater part of it still remained.
Conyod was still reeling from Erybet’s story. He couldn’t begin to think of how he’d help Sletran recover, not from such a horrific tragedy, but it didn’t matter. He knew he would do no less than his damnedest to make it happen. He would try until death claimed one or both of them. Conyod had to get his Nobek back too.
Chapter 11
Breft essentially bullied his way into Emperor Bevau’s office in the Government House by walking into the reception area, stating he was there to see the military’s Imperial Commander, and telling the Imdiko who handled Bevau’s appointments that he’d wait until the monarch found time to see him. Then he and Lidon stood over the poor flustered man who insisted the schedule was full. Finally the receptionist fled into Bevau’s private room to consult with his superior. The Royal Guards standing at the entryway said nothing, as was usual for the elite Nobeks charged with keeping the emperor safe. They simply watched Breft and Lidon, who stared back with an equal lack of emotion. Men just doing their jobs, and neither side taking issue with the other.
The Imdiko came back out, scowling for all he was worth. “Emperor Bevau has graciously decided to make time for you, officers. You may go in.”
Without a hint of smugness, Breft offered the upset man a slight bow. “Thank you so much for seeing to our very important matter. It is appreciated.”
The Imdiko sat down at his computer without another word and began issuing commands to shuffle his superior’s appointments.
Breft and Lidon nodded to the Royal Guards as they passed into Bevau’s chamber. The Government House was a cliff building that also housed the Royal Council, which advised the Imperial Clan on all matters dealing with the wellbeing of Kalquor. Breft’s Dramok was a councilman himself, and a well-respected one at that. He had offices two floors below this one.
Half a dozen more Royal Guards stood at attention within the room. Breft and Lidon crossed the polished rock floor silently, neither looking anywhere but straight ahead towards one of three of Kalquor’s emperors. Bevau’s desk was against the far wall, a long, square metallic surface that held no less than four computers. Vid readouts floated in the air before the big Nobek.
Breft grimaced. Like most of his breed, he hated the administrative parts of his job. No doubt the emperor had a horrendous amount of such work to judge from the number of readouts and computers in front of him. Being the ruler of an empire was not something the Global Security officer would ever aspire to. Being the head of his precinct had enough such nonsense, so much so that sometimes Breft wished he hadn’t allowed himself to be promoted a year ago.
Then again, Bevau was a very rare Kalquorian. Though he was officially classified a Nobek, he was actually also half Imdiko. Maybe his nurturing side didn’t mind the filework portion of his position.
No one with good sense would ever discount the emperor’s fighting abilities just because of his supposed gentler nature. The tall man was a pure brute when angered. When his empress had been attacked shortly after joining his clan, Bevau had cut the head off one of her assailants.
With savage joy. Rumors said he’d made the man’s skull into a cup which he drank from every night before retiring, but Breft discounted that as pure absurdity. Empress Jessica would never allow such a barbaric trophy in her home, and that woman ruled the Imperial Clan.
Bevau ordered his vids paused and off before standing to greet them. The man was almost ridiculously handsome with perfect features and long, spiraling curls that reached to the middle of his back. His sleeveless black formsuit, complete with the royal purple trim, clung to a well-muscled body. Dark scars on his veined biceps were fighting marks of honor any Nobek would be proud to wear.
Handsome or not, Bevau’s disapproval was plain to see. His black brows knit together over narrowed eyes and his lips thinned in a frown. Before Breft and Lidon could properly greet their ruler, he snapped, “I received your message this morning, and I assume that’s why you’re here.
Do you have any idea of the hell New Bethlehem was for our men?”
Breft and Lidon bowed deeply. Keeping his tone carefully respectful, Breft said, “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, my emperor. To answer your question, I know it was one of the worst spots during the war.”
“As well as after the war. In fact, it got worse once the official hostilities were done.
Earthers committed suicide attacks against our soldiers. Against their own people who peacefully surrendered. It was an abattoir and no one ever knew where the next round of violence would come from.”
Lidon’s voice was a soothing counterpoint to Bevau’s obvious agitation. “I’ve heard many didn’t come back with their minds intact.”
Bevau walked around his desk to stand near them. “You heard correctly. Half the men who fought there and are still alive have spent time in psych wards since coming home. The other half are having problems as well.”
Bevau thought of the Matara on the beach. Of the one draped over the statue in the square.
Seeing them one at a time was horrific enough, but thinking of the many who’d died in the infamous slaughter … children too … made him stiffen. “Are you saying that excuses the massacre, my emperor?”
Bevau suddenly bared fangs at him. There was no hint of any Imdiko nature in his expression and Breft went very still. He’d gone too far with his rash statement. His emperor was a conscientious man, and no doubt the slaughter weighed heavily on him.
“My apologies, my emperor. I was completely out of line by saying that.” Breft lowered his head.
After a moment, Bevau sighed. “Few know what really happened. Few care. All that matters is innocent women and babes were killed. No one wants to hear the massacre was due to a mistake and malfunctioning equipment.”
Lidon inhaled sharply. Breft raised his gaze to look at the emperor in surprise.
Bevau nodded, his expression despondent. “That’s right. A company went in based on a reliable report of insurgent activity in the area. A report that had been fact checked and found feasible. We’re not sure if the insurgents discovered they’d been informed on, or just how it happened that so many civilians were in the building we attacked. The onsite commanding officer realized the error just before they set off explosives, but due to a com failure the attack went down anyway.”
Breft was thunderstruck. Beside him, Lidon groaned. “It sounds like Armageddon all over again.”
“Except we had no one to blame but ourselves for the deaths on New Bethlehem. It was an honest miscalculation that cost dozens of lives.”
Breft shook his head. “I can understand the secrecy then.”
Bevau sat heavily on the edge of his desk. “The deaths of those Mataras and children were terrible. I’ve lost a lot of sleep over it. They deserve some sort of justice, but it’s not mine to give.”
He glanced at a wall vid, and Breft followed his gaze. Empress Jessica, in a rare moment of lightheartedness, smiled brilliantly from the still photo. Framed by long chestnut hair, her elfin face shone with unr
estrained happiness. She held her two children, who were laughing at whoever had taken the picture.
It made Breft think of his own Matara and little ones. His chest throbbed with an ache that was equal parts love and worry.
Still looking at his family, Bevau said, “My heart breaks to think of those deaths. But it was not intentional. The men who made it happen have suffered tremendously already without earning public hatred.”
Breft took a deep breath to ease the heaviness that filled him. “My emperor, you’ve read the messages left by this Beast. Someone who was on New Bethlehem, not necessarily involved with the massacre, is taking out his damage on innocent Mataras here. He must be stopped.”
A muscle jumped in the emperor’s jaw. He refused to look at Breft. “I will not expose anyone I don’t have to. We had thousands of soldiers on that colony. I trust Global Security, but I will take no chances on having my men who are innocent killed by a self-righteous mob.”
Lidon, ever diplomatic, offered a solution. “If we were to give you specific names, my emperor?”
Bevau looked at him with an expression of relief. “I will accept that. Tell me your suspects and I will tell you if they were there.”
“Company Commander Dramok Erybet.”
Bevau started. His mouth dropped open as if to protest, and then he snapped it shut. He jerked a nod.
Breft added. “Group Commander Nobek Sletran.”
Bevau’s hands shook for a moment and stilled. He jerked another nod. It was apparent these two men in particular meant something to him.
“Foot soldier Nobek Monby. Military aide Nobek Tas.”
Bevau didn’t react as strongly as those two names. “To the best of my knowledge, both those men went missing soon after they returned from New Bethlehem. Tas left a suicide note, but his body hasn’t been found. They served under Erybet and Sletran.”
Lidon’s voice was very quiet, low enough to escape the hearing of the Royal Guard. “Were any of them involved in the massacre itself?”
Bevau licked his lips. “All of them.”
Breft swallowed. If it turned out one of his four suspects was the Beast, that would open up the question of whether the Slaughter of Innocents was a cataclysmic mistake or planned murder.
The look on Bevau’s face said he knew that too. He leaned close and whispered, “I know Erybet and Sletran, Breft. Good soldiers. Good men. Neither of them would harm any Matara no matter what they went through on New Bethlehem. It would be so against their nature as to be impossible.”
Breft spoke carefully, not wanting to earn Bevau’s anger. “I have to consider every possible element, my emperor. I promise you my investigation will be very discreet. As long as I have no reason to believe either of them is behind this, they will not even be aware they are suspects.”
Bevau fixed his intense gaze on Breft’s face. “Be very sure of this before you approach them. I don’t think you’re aware of the damage knowing they’re under investigation could cause.”
“Then tell me, my emperor.”
“Two-thirds of Sletran’s group have committed suicide over the massacre already. The rest are in and out of internment camps due to violent crimes or remanded to psych wards.”
Lidon gaped. “All of them?”
Bevau gave him a grim smile. “All have found trouble but Erybet and Sletran themselves, and the one Dramok who served as Erybet’s aide on New Bethlehem.”
Breft and Lidon exchanged horrified glances. Whether by mistake or design, the massacre continued to claim lives. That over half had killed themselves because of it brought the terrible weight back into Breft’s chest.
“‘There is none more unforgiving than the self’,” Lidon quoted from the Book of Life. He bowed to Bevau. “My Dramok still struggles with the guilt he feels over being a key player in Armageddon, though he was absolved of all blame. You may be assured the four names we gave you will not leave our confidences.”
Bevau nodded. “Their lives depend upon it.”
Breft added his bow. “Thank you for your valuable assistance, my emperor.”
Bevau had turned once more to the laughing Matara and children in the vid photo. He said nothing. They left him staring at his family’s portrait.
* * * *
Conyod left work an hour early, returning home with Erybet. He simply couldn’t stare at reports anymore, not when his mind was buzzing from the knowledge he now had.
His Dramok and Nobek had inadvertently caused New Bethlehem’s Slaughter of Innocents.
It was a lot to wrap his head around.
As soon as the men walked into their home, Erybet called, “Sletran?”
The rough voice raised to answer. “We’re out on the balcony.”
Conyod exchanged a look with his Dramok. “We?”
They went out to discover Rachel and Sletran relaxing in the whirlpool with drinks. It shouldn’t have concerned Conyod that his Nobek had picked Ray-Ray up and brought her back here. Yet for some reason, it did.
Rachel waved cheerfully for a moment before assuming a grumpier expression. In Kalquorian she demanded, “Where the fuck you be? We wait forever you two assholes get home.”
From the corner of his eye, Conyod saw Erybet’s jaw drop, a match to his own shock at her language. Sletran and Rachel burst into gales of laughter at their expressions.
The clinical part of Conyod’s mind noted how his beloved’s voice sounded stronger and less raspy as she learned to use it once more. The not so clinical parts of him saw she looked stunning in a skintight bright yellow soaksuit. It dipped low between her breasts, showing the inside curves to advantage. He wondered how much the bottom part revealed. What he could see rippling beneath the water’s surface showed the long stretch of her legs.
Conyod felt heat spilling into his cock, making him hard. He turned his attention to Sletran.
The Nobek was still chuckling, looking so much like his old self that it made Conyod’s heart ache anew for what his clanmate had suffered.
Erybet had recovered, mild disapproval replacing the stunned look on his face. “Really, Sletran? You’re teaching her profanity?”
Conyod crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “That will get her so much farther than good manners.”
Rachel kicked water at them. “Laugh. Is funny, you shit elbows.”
Sletran roared with hysterical laughter. Erybet’s struggle to rein in his humor was obvious, and Conyod turned his face away to hide the grin currently owning his face.
Sletran gasped between bellows of hilarity. “No, Ray-Ray. Clefgud sok is what you meant to say. Shit brains, not shit elbows.”
That did it. Erybet lost all pretense of Dramok-like control and fell apart. Conyod joined in, laughing hard enough that he forgot to breathe. After hearing the grim story of New Bethlehem, it felt damned good to laugh.
Rachel grinned and shrugged. “To say ‘shit’ is good. Sletran say need say shit when Conyod, Erybet cook.”
Conyod shook his head at Sletran. “Aren’t you a little old for that kind of humor?”
The Nobek grinned. “Aren’t you a little young to be such an uptight shit elbow?”
That got them laughing again. Conyod couldn’t remember the last time they’d all laughed so hard.
Sletran finally calmed down and stood. He got out of the whirlpool and used a drycloth to stop dripping. He wrapped it around his waist. To Rachel he said, “I’d like to speak to my clan for a moment, Ray-Ray. Will you excuse us?”
Rachel looked at the depleted drink she held in one hand, put it on the edge of the whirlpool, and picked up Sletran’s half-full cup. Raising it to the three men, she grinned and waved them away.
Chuckling, Erybet and Conyod followed Sletran into the dining room.
As soon as they were all gathered, Sletran spoke. “I know I haven’t been myself for quite some time. I didn’t realize how much I’d changed until Ray-Ray came along. When she’s around, I feel like I used to.”
Erybet no
dded. “You act more like your old self when she’s present.”
“She makes me think I can be the man I was again.” He took a deep breath. “Can we clan her, Erybet?”
Conyod’s breath froze in his lungs. He exchanged a look with the Dramok. Of course Sletran noticed, and his eyes narrowed.
Erybet put a hand on the Nobek’s broad shoulder. “Before we discuss that, we need to address your emotional health, Sletran. I’ve been very worried. So worried that I have disobeyed orders from our superiors.”
Sletran’s gaze threatened to bore a hole in Erybet’s skull. “In what way, my Dramok?”
Conyod moved close. “He told me about what happened on New Bethlehem.”
Sletran jerked, his eyes widening as he turned to Conyod. In that instant, the Imdiko saw something he’d never thought his clanmate was capable of: utter terror.
Conyod hurried to calm the big Nobek. “I think you did the best you could in a no-win situation, Sletran. You won’t hear a word of condemnation from me. If you’ll let me, I’d like to help you deal with the pain better than you have been.”
Tension fled Sletran; so much so that his entire body sagged with the release of it. The need on his face made Conyod hurt. “You don’t see me as a monster?”
Conyod stepped forward to wrap his arms around the solid body of his clanmate. He whispered in Sletran’s ear, “Of course not.” Then, to mask the emotion that wanted to overwhelm him, he teased, “You know you’ll always be my hero. I worship your blade, my Nobek.”
Sletran snorted a brief expulsion of laughter. His fingers trailed lightly through Conyod’s hair before gently pushing him away. He gripped Conyod’s shoulders and studied him. After a moment, he seemed satisfied. “You don’t know what a relief it is to be able to look you in the eye again. Even if you didn’t understand – the secret is too big for me. I think it would have stolen my mind.” Another wash of fear, but much diminished, chased over his expression.
Conyod’s hands closed over Sletran’s biceps. “I’ll help you. We’ll figure this out,” he vowed.
Erybet patted Sletran’s back. “As to your request. We all want Rachel in our clan, but it may be best to give you more time, my Nobek.”
Alien Redemption [Clans of Kalquor 06] Page 23